It Hurts - Troyler
by GeorgiaPhan
Summary: It is Troye's birthday, and Tyler goes shopping. When he returns Troye is no where to be seen. [Self Harm Included - May Offend Some - Not meant to! x] Please R&R. I hope you like it x
1. Chapter 1 - It Hurts

It is 5:30 on the 5th of June. [Troye's birthday] - Tyler was stood in front of his bathroom mirror, arranging his lilac hair. After it was perfect, he carefully perched his flat cap, backwards, over the top and walked into the hall. He was getting ready to go out, he wanted to go shopping, and was going out early to avoid masses of fans. As much as he adored them, sometimes they were a little too noisy. He slipped on his Nike high tops, and was almost about to walk out of the door when Troye staggered over. "You should be asleep!" Tyler giggled, as Troye had sheet marks on his left cheek and his hair was sticking up at all angles. "So should you.." He mumbled, sloppily landing in Tyler's arms. They embraced for a while until Troye slowly fell asleep. Tyler carried him back to their bedroom, tucked the duvet over the top of him, and planted a soft kiss on his forehead before leaving the house. He trudged Walmart, collecting necessities, before walking to the line of clothes shops. He went into Top Man first, and bought a grey-blue top. It had rolled up sleeves, and he imagined Troye wearing it. "Damn.." He said out loud. This earned him sharp looks, and he quickly and awkwardly apologised. He then went into American Eagle and purchased 2 pairs of super skinny jeans. One was a deep black, the other a washed out denim colour, a little lighter than Troye's eyes. The last shop he ventured into was Hollister. It was 4 floors high, towering above all the other shops. He picked up a bottle of 'So Cal So Chill Cologne', another of 'Break Line Cologne', a 'Pearl Street Sweater', 'Sycamore Cove Hooded Sweater', a 'Reef Point Shirt' and last of all, a 'Dana Strands Hoodie Sweater'. "That'll be £400." The teen at the checkout drawled. Tyler did not hesitate to pull out his card, and typed his pin in with the same amount of confidence. Then, he made one last trip to the bakers down the road from his apartment. He picked up a three tier cake with the same washed out denim colour as the first top he bought. It had 'It me' printed over and over, in a swirly text. He thanked the bakers, with whom he had ordered it two weeks ago. When he entered the apartment, he took everything to the kitchen. At this point it was 8:45, so he knew Troye would still be sound asleep. He wrapped each present neatly in an opal like wrapping paper, tying a deep gold ribbon round each one. Then, he lit candles on the cake, and juggling both the presents and the cake, he made his way to the bedroom he shared with Troye. He opened it and said sassily "Happy Birthday, it me. Happy Birthday, it you. Happy Birthday, it us... Happy Birthday it you!" He stopped. Troye was no where to be seen. He placed the presents on the side of the bed that he had made, next to Troye's side. Then, he cleared his bedside table with one swift arm movement and carefully lowered the cake onto it. Then, he searched the apartment. Troye was not on the balcony, nor was he in the drawing room. He tried everywhere he could think of. He knew he was still in the apartment, as his shoes were standing by the door, like the night before. At last he tried the bathroom. It was locked. "Troye?" Tyler knocked on the door. "Are you in there?" He knocked twice over. Tyler heard a little gasp of breath, as if from pain. "Troye?" Tyler was panicked, he began to thrust his shoulder against the door, over and over. "Troye!" He kicked, punched, scratched and slapped the door. He was crying, screaming Troye's name. He sobbed into his hands, overwhelmed by his worry. He slumped down, back against the bathroom door. "Troye?" He whispered, his voice full of pure, unadulterated fear. Fear of losing the one person who meant the most. "Tyler.." Troye's voice seemed slurred, like he had just woken. Tyler imagined a picture of Troye, like he was before he left, with his hair sticking up at the front. He smiled, lowering his anxiety a little, before it returned fully. "Troye, open the door." Tyler spoke sternly, as if to a child who would not do as he was told. Troye slowly opened the door, head down, tear after silent tear rolling down his flushed cheeks. Tyler grabbed Troye and shook him once, before hugging him tightly. Troye whimpered, That was when Tyler noticed Troye's arms. They were red, crisscrossed with scars, new cuts on top, layer on layer. Tyler held Troye as he cried, Cried as if his heart would break. 


	2. Chapter 2 - Hate

Tyler did not know what to do, Troye was so weak in his arns, so fragile, so young. After Troye had calmed down a little, Tyler took him into their bedroom. He moved Troye's laptop from the bed, and just about to put the lid down to perch it on the desk, he glanced at the screen. There were 4 tabs open. Twitter, Tumblr, and Facebook. The first tab, , was filled with 'Go die, bum fucker' 'Kill yourself gay shit' 'I 'm going to make you wish you were never born, you bent scum' and comments worse than that. Scrolling, they took up the majority of Troye's questions, but they were all dated this day's date. A few questions were 'Happy Birthday Troye x' but they were the tiny minority. The second, Twitter, was filled with the same remarks and comments, but they detailed that he should 'jump of a cliff' or 'hang himself' and other, more descriptive threats. The third, Tumblr, was not as bad, as there were many more 'Happy Birthday's and 'Love you Troye!'s, but the most recent post was the most disgusting. It read 'You are a ******* fag. You disgust me. I hate you, I hate you to the depth of my soul. Gay people make me sick, you are fucking gross. If I were your mum, I would have had an abortion. You need to go and kill yourself, go and fucking die ******. You are foul.' Tyler's heart sank as he looked on the next tab. It was on Troye's inbox, and the inbox was filled with hundreds or thousands of messages. Quickly scrolling, they were filled with the same homophobic remarks, death threats and comments as the others. He turned around to see Troye was huddled up, his knees to his chin, his head encased in his arms. He walked over and lowered himself on the bed, and gazed at him. Troye's arms, from the shoulder to the wrist, were covered in slits and scars. Blood was smeared all over, and Tyler could also see bruises mottled underneath. Tyler, slowly and softly, stripped Troye down to his boxers. He searched every part of his body, and discovered cuts that ran all the way up the inside of his legs. "Troye. I.." He whispered, his voice low. "I needed to have known about this babe. You could have rung me! I was just in town!" Tyler was desperate, he felt utterly guilty for this. "Gurl. My gurl. Come here." The two of them held each other, Tyler began to quietly sob into Troye's chest and this caused Troye to weep louder. "I.. I felt so horrid. Like I did not deserve anything. They made me feel like it was my fault. At first I answered them with jovial things like 'Sssh it ma birthday' or 'It me. It you. It just who we be' but it got worse. Much worse." Tyler reached over and scrolled up, watching Troye's responses go from happy, to distraught. "Then I told them to stop. That I could not do this anymore. That it hurt me. But they carried on. I couldn't do it. I'm so sorry. So so sorry." This sprouted another gush of tears on his behalf, and he cried on Tyler's chest. "Don't you apologise. They are the cunts." Tyler said, stubborn but truthful. "Come on you. Let's get you cleeaanned up." Whether it was from the way Tyler pronounced that word, or whether Troye was just too overwhelmed with sadness to keep control of his emotions, he giggled a little. But Tyler was serious. He took him into the bathroom, wiping his legs and arms down. Tyler winced as he picked up the razor that Troye had used, he winced when he used the anti-septic wipe on the slashes, he even winced when bandaging them up. Troye did not even blink. When Tyler was sure Troye's wounds were properly looked after, he sat him down on the bed. "Troye. Just for this week, Please, so we can focus on not only each other, but to get you happier, please can you deactivate your accounts." Troye was about to protest, but Tyler's face remained serious. "I will do the same, and you know how much I looovvee to tweet. I am willing to deactivate all my accounts, if you will, so we can figure out how to deal with this." "Together?" Troye said quietly, both their hands on the key pad. "Together." 


	3. Chapter 3 - Lost Boys

**I know cute might not be the right word to use for this subject, but here's a cute chapter for you 3 please comment guys, i want to know whether you want it continued x**

After deactivating each and every social networking site they each owned, they sat together on the bed. #

"It's weird to say.." Troye said slowly, which earned him a 'could things get any worse' look from Tyler, he continued "But this means you're serious."

"What?" Tyler was so overwhelmed with the situation, he found that statement both insulting and complimenting, confused, he asked for clarity.

"I mean... deactivating your Twitter! That's like... you deliberately melting your ice cream in the hottest day of Summer. It just doesn't happen."

Tyler blinked his eyes repeatedly, bringing his face closer to Troye's, and whispered "Some people are worth melting for."

Troye giggled, but held his stomach, wincing a little.

"Show me." Tyler was short, sharp. He did not know what else to say.

Troye slowly took off his top, revealing another set of jagged lines.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as Tyler began to clean them up once more.

"I told you to stop apologising, didn't I?" He was stern, his eyes wide, the sparkle in them faded as tears began to slowly run down his cheeks."They are the

cunts. Don't you apologise."

"Tyler..." Troye started, but he pressed his finger on his lips, shushing him.

"Just don't. Please please don't. I should apologise for this .For not even noticing. I should have known, somehow."

"How? How could you have known?" Troye's eyes filled with tears. "You couldn't have done. I hide it, it is so easy! I have not even done it for long! What.. a

few days? And already the world seems so much darker, heavier. I see people differently, I see them in a new light. If it is in light at all. I.."

"You see me differently?" Tyler's voice was small, the tears could not stop.

"I.. No. I .. didn't mean it like that. Tyler..." Troye began to bring his knees to his chin, trying to hide away from Tyler's hurt gaze. "I... I love you." He could no

longer hold the steady flood of tears.

"Don't. Please don't cry." Tyler held him close, he could not do anything else. Minutes flew by, they stayed close to one another.

They held each other like lost boys, would not let go, _could not let go_.


	4. Chapter 4 - Everlasting

"Troye... babey... we need to celebrate your birthday."

"I don't really feel up to that, but thanks anyway." His face was emotionless, no joy yet no sadness. He was unusually pale, zombie like and still.

"I don't care. You're opening the presents whether you like it or not!"

Troye smiled, though his eyes were sad. He watched Tyler scoop up the shiny parcels from the floor where they had fallen, and he piled them on Troye's lap.

He opened the two Colognes first, smelling them both by spraying them onto Tyler's wrists. When smelling the 'Break Line', a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"It smells like our first date." He sniffed, wiping his nose on the duvet which earned him an "EEEWW!" from Tyler. "We were on the beach, I had a lemonade. Look, smell it." Tyler took a deep breath and choked. "Not that much! See, it's citrusy but salt like at the same time. It's sweet, but rough." He smiled at Tyler. "Thankyou."

"Keep opening babe" Tyler said softly, picking out the package which had the Top Man shirt in.

Troye's eyes lit up when he saw the blue-grey top and he did not hesitate to try it on. Tyler smiled as he looked even more perfect than he had ever imagined.

He was so beautiful.

But so vulnerable, so quick to believe others.

Was it beauty that made you vulnerable?

Or maybe vulnerabilty was a beauty.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he watched as Troye opened the other presents.

With every one he let out a gasp and thanked Tyler with either a tight hug or a soft, short kiss.

He was happy.

But Tyler wanted that happiness to be everlasting.

After tearing the paper into pieces and throwing them in the air, making them both giggle, they sat on the bed and set up the iPad in order to FaceTime Troye's mum.

Just before calling, Tyler flattened down Troyes hair which was sticking up comically, and wiped his eyes.

"Smile baby" he whispered "because I love you." Squeezing his hand, they began the call.

Troye's mum was walking in a familiar street and entered a lift.

"Mum?!" He was confused "where are you?"

"Hang on honey. My wifi is going" She winked at the camera and ended it.

Two seconds later there was a knock on the apartment door.

"Did you tell her?" Troye was angry, his body tense.

"Do you really think your ma could have flown all this way in less than 2 hours?!" Tyler smiled a little "she told me she was coming over a week ago, I wanted to make it a surprise."

Troye relaxed, his shoulders sloped. "I'm sorry.. I... I don't know how she would react to this."

"Did you guess how I would react?"

"Kind of. Well, I don't know. In that moment I wasn't thinking about anything else other than myself. My immediate afterthought was you. I thought you would go crazy, loose it or something. I'm not sure. You didn't react how I thought you would anyway."

"Why did you think I would go cray..?"

Troye shrugged slowly and quickly got up to answer the door. "I don't like people knocking more than once." He explained to no one in particular.

"Hi Troye!" The 'y' was elongated as if talking to a small child. "Happy Birthday baby!" She smiled, her smile so real and wide that Troye could not resist smiling also.

"Your dad couldn't come over with me, your brother had a problem." She sighed and shrugged "Kids, what can you do, eh?"

Troye grinned and wrapped her in a tight hug.

"You're just in time to cut the cake Mrs Mellet!"

"Please Tyler, please call me Laurelle! How many times!" She winked and walked into the kitchen. "Where is it?" She asked.

"Oh.. It's in the bedroom." Troye answered and they rushed off to go get it together.

"Troye.." Tyler said quickly, concerned "I think you should put a sweater on."

He nodded, looking painfully at his arms, and picked up the hoodie Tyler gave him.

He picked up the cake and followed Troye out of the room.

His mum laughed as she saw the cake, with the slogan printed all over.

"It's amazing!" She exclaimed "... Tyler... you didn't make that... did you?!"

Tyler giggled as he quickly binned the reciept and the packaging. "Of course I did Mrs Mellet."


	5. Chapter 5 - Bleeding

"Mmm! This is so good, Tyler!" She smiles "The cake is so soft and light, you did ever such a good job in the icing! It's completely even! I

wouldn't be able to do that even if I tried!"

"I try my best Mrs M, I try my best." He could not believe she was believing this.

"Oh Mum, come on! You know Ty. He burns Poptarts, he definitely cannot cook this." He laughs, rolling up his sleeves. "Pft! It is hot in here!

Tyler, can you open a window please?" He fanned his face with his hand.

"Troye?" His mum said, sharp, as she saw his arms.

He stopped, they all did.

Troye's face drained of colour, his eyes widened. His heart beat increased until he thought his head would explode, his breathing began to get

shallower until he had to gasp for breath. He felt cold, yet his skin felt like it was raging. His hands began to shake whilst his knees grew weak.

He could barely see, his eyes stinging as they filled with hot tears.

Looking over at Tyler, his reaction was the same.

Laurelle's mouth was set in a thin line, her face red.

"Mum..." He began, though his mother's eyes threw him off.

Her eyes were like a channel into her heart, her open and bleeding heart.

Her child had just revealed a secret.

A secret that hurts.

A secret that caused her world to come crumbling down.

She could not stop looking at the welts on his pale arms; her child had _hurt_ himself.

Had _cut _himself.

And she had not been told.


	6. Chapter 6 - Show Him Love

"Troye?"

That was the one word.

The one word she said before her heart ripped in two.

She watched her son, helpless.

She watched as her son crumbled on to the floor; he sobbed and he kicked and he screamed and he scratched.

The tears in her eyes formed a raging ocean, her hands shook as her throat grew dry.

What could she do?

She could do nothing.

What could she say?

She could say nothing.

She felt useless, worthless and like she herself had caused this mess.

"I shouldn't.. have.." She gulped. "I shouldn't have said anything, Troye."

He froze, his arms wrapped around his frail body like a straight jacket.

"Tyler?" She pleaded.

Tyler was still also, he did not know what to do. He ran his hands over his head and through his hair, which was now drenched in nervous sweat.

"Both of you?" She was in despair, her hands shaking as she brought her arms up in an attempt to embrace Troye.

He shrank away.

"You should have told me. I should have known. I'm your mother, Troye? Your mother. I need to know this. I need to know these things. Please. I need to hold

you. I need to hold my baby. Troye, please? I just want to hold you."

Troye remained where he was, his facial expression unchanged.

"What is done is done, I just want to be with you, Troye. I should have known, I should have stopped you. Please, Troye? Can't you even look at me?"

He still did not move.

There was a knock at the door.

Tyler walked quickly to it and opened it, revealing his mum.

"Great. Fucking brilliant." He sighed, throwing his hands up into the air.

"Tyler! That is no way to speak to me! Or about me!" She exclaimed. "What is it, babey?" She asked, looking at his face.

He said nothing, he just gestured to the kitchen.

She trotted in with gift bags in hand.

Gasping, she ran up to Troye and grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug.

"So my son will resort to you for comfort and still will not even look at me?" Laurelle was distressed and torn up, her hands clenched whilst her arms were

hanging down.

"Ssshh." Jackie calmed her, leaving Troye to Tyler as she whisked her away into the lounge.

"It could have been worse." Tyler tried to reassure him, who was still standing in the exact same spot.

"How exactly?" He whispered, his eyes to the ceiling. He fell into Tyler's arms and shivered "I just want to go home."

"What do you mean? You are home?" Tyler drew back, hurt.

"Yes. No. I meant that. I meant I wished she would just go home. No. Home. Just. Home." He mumbled, delirious.

"Come with me." Tyler said, calm, leading him into the lounge.

Jackie and Laurelle sat on one sofa, the boys sat on another opposite.

Jackie nodded at Tyler, he had done the right thing by putting him and his mum into the same room, they needed to talk and sort this; somehow.

"Troye.." Jackie encouraged.

"What am I supposed to say?!" He exclaimed.

"Tell me why. Tell me why you did this. Tell me why you did this and didn't tell me. Tell me why I didn't deserve to know." Laurelle spoke, her voice catching with

every word.

"Is that what you think? Was that your immediate reaction? That I thought you didn't deserve to know this? Deserve? What kind of word is that? I didn't tell

you because I love you! I didn't tell you because I was scared and anxious and ... I didn't want to do this to you! I didn't want to do this to any of you! You,

mum! Tyler! Jackie! Dad! Anyone! I didn't want to. I'm just so scared." His voice faded on those four words, Tyler held him close for comfort.

"But.. but... why? You were such a happy kid. In your own world of music and films and friends and... happiness."

"I'm not a child anymore."

"So this was your way of showing me? Was it?!"

"No!" Troye shook harder and harder, his face flushing a deep, uncontrollable red. "I... Mum... No!"

"Sssshh." Tyler took over. "Troye was a victim to cyber bulling on everything. Everything. Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, and . It wasn't something he did to

deliberately hurt anyone, he did it out of despair and pain."

"Where were you then? Tyler? Why couldn't you have stopped this?!"

"If you don't mind me saying, Mrs Mellet, I think that is completely out of order. As if my own guilt isn't enough, with you giving me more. I was out shopping, I

know ... last minute present shopping is lazy... but I was gone for over 3 hours! Do you really think, if I knew Troye was vulnerable, I would leave him for that

amount of time? Do you really think, if I knew the state he was in, I would have deserted him?"

"Right now, Tyler, I don't know what to think."

"Here's something to ponder upon. I 'm assuming that you all feel that Troye needs protection and guidance and support? Yes?" He received nods from Jackie

and Laurelle. " He needs to feel safe, within a circle of trust, we need to show patience and be there every time he feels low. But most of all, we need to show

him love."


	7. Chapter 7 - Happy Little Pill

Hearing the three of them talk like that amplified the guilt which Troye felt, the pain which filled his heart. Fear pulsed through his veins as his

eyes grew blurry. Struggling, his breathing grew erratic. In an attempt to hide the state he was in, he held the cushion which he was sitting on

tightly, digging his fingers into the soft fabric.

It calmed him, his breaths slowed and deepened, but his stomach began to ache as he thought about what he had done to his family, to the

ones he loved.

"I need to go to the loo." Troye announced, jumping up from the sofa.

"Ok." Tyler nodded, looking into his eyes. Troye could see he was worried, cautious in fact.

And that hurt more.

He walked casually out of the room and then ran to the toilet.

Troye stood, staring at the mirror.

Numb, he simply watched as tears rolled down his cheeks. He watched as his eyes filled with torment, his body tremble in panic.

What had he done? What was he doing to himself? To his family? To Tyler? To everyone around him?

Troye slumped onto the floor, his back against the wall, facing the door of the bathroom.

That was when he saw a small smudge of blood on the tiles.

Manic, his brain exploded with alarm. His arms shook, his hands curled into fists. He stared, until his eyes ached, at the reminder of the pain he

had caused.

Troye lowered his eyes to watch his arms shake, and he saw the cuts and the smears and the slits.

He was numb once more.

He pushed himself off of the floor and walked, unfeeling, to the mirror and opened the cupboard which lay behind it.

Bottles and boxes of medicine were lined up in rows on each of the three shelves.

His mouth set into a thin line as he reached for the first cap.

Ripping the lid off, he lost control and dropped it.

Then, as if a trance had been lifted, he crumbled to the floor and began to sob.

He didn't want to do this. He had already caused so much pain. So much pain. But surely then he deserved it? The life he had now was in ruins,

broken pieces of the life he had once lived. Surely he deserved it? No, he didn't, no one deserves this. No one. But he did, didn't he? Didn't he

deserve to end his life?

He fought and he fought, the thoughts whirring in his mind.

But they won.

He was numb once more, his body vibrating and cold and hot and... out of control.

Weeping, he reached for the first pill which had rolled next to his leg.

"My happy little pill, take.." His voice broke off, his breath giving way. "take me away, draw my eyes... bring colour to my skies." He dropped the

first capsule into his mouth and swallowed. "My sweet little pill, take my heart..."

His movement manic, he scooped pill after pill into his mouth.

"I'm right within... know my skin." He whispered, his sobs stopping.

_He needed this._

_He deserved this._

Then it became an instinct, a sick and unstoppable process.

Pill after pill, bottle after bottle, box after box.

Then there was nothing left.

"My happy little pill, take me away. Draw my eyes, bring colour to my skies. My sweet little pill, take my heart. I'm right within, know my skin."

Troye smiled, closing his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8 -Gone

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

This was the cycle, the cycle that remained.

This was all Troye could feel, all his body could muster.

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

His head was numb and light, though somewhere in the back he felt as though he was carrying the world.

The world on his shoulders.

But then, this was the way to fall off of the planet.

Gone.

Gone, forever.

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

This was Troye.

This was what he had become.

Weak and frail.

Weak and small.

Weak.

His eyelids burned, light flashed all around him.

He could hear, but he just could not decipher what was being said.

He could smell, but he just could not decipher what the scent was or where it was coming from.

Numb.

Paralyzed, he was defenceless and helpless.

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

His eyes opened for a split second, a masked man stood over him.

For that short moment he could hear, see, taste, smell and even feel properly.

The beeping of machines, bright light, dry mouth, disinfectant and the ache.

The ache that was coursing through him, from his stomach to his head to his heart.

Everything was weighed down, so heavy, so.. never ending.

And then he closed his eyes once more.

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

His head filled with floods of memories, then it calmed into a ripple. It grew into a small wave, lapping at his subconscious, then it formed another

tsunami.

This was Troye.

This was what he had become.

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

The more time he spent in this cage of stillness, this lifeless state, the more the cycle quickened.

Light. Dark. Pain. Release.

Light. Dark. Pain. Release.

Then a breath filled his lungs.

"Troye? Troye? Can you hear me?" A voice was beside him no sooner than his eyes flickered open. "Troye? Tell me you can. Just say something.

Anything. Just tell me you're ok."

Parting his lips, a small groan tumbled from his mouth.

"Jesus fucking Jesus." Tyler celebrated. "Troye?"

"I love you." Troye whispered, his voice shaky.

"I love you more." He smiled.

"No. I love you most."

That was it.

The last turn of the wheel, the final cycle.

Light.

Dark.

Pain.

Release.

Gone.

Gone, forever.


	9. Chapter 9 - Tyler - Alone

**2 years later - Tyler is alone, trying to sleep. **

I had found him.

I had found him on the bathroom floor.

Wishing it was a dream, I had collapsed onto my knees in silence and squeezed my eyes shut.

My throat was too tight to make a sound, my body was too cold to move.

Had it been real?

His hair had fallen slightly to the side, as it would if he were dancing around the room to Beyonce or if he were tilting his head to the right as he

sang.

His mouth was parted a little, as if he were asleep or gazing at the sunset in the distance.

His arms were wrapped around his body as if to protect himself.

And his eyes were shut.

Who was he protecting himself from? Me? Was he afraid of me, for something? Had I caused this? Was this my fault? Or was he protecting

himself from the world? Was he protecting himself from everything that those idiots had said? Was he protecting himself from us?

Question after question filled my head, until I realised.

He wasn't protecting himself from something.

He was protecting everyone from himself. His arms were so rigid, sheathing him, caging him even.

Finally, my mouth obeyed my brain, and I screamed.

Mom and Laurelle had both ran in together, their eyes filled with panic.

And then they saw him.

Slowly, I lifted my eyes from Troye to survey the room.

My ears ceased to function. I could see Mom cry out, Laurelle stand still, as still as he was. This was like a movie, everything slow and so... real.

This was happening. This had happened.

Something blinded me, warping everything into a world of blue and white.

It was my own tears.

I smiled at his words.

The first thing he had said had been about me. Despite the pain in my chest, I giggled at the pure adorableness of the fact he had thought

about me first.

Of course I had replied with "I love you more."

That was what we said, that was our little greeting and farewell.

Whoever said it first wins.

He won, I guess.

As he whispered "I love you most" it had hit me.

That was his farewell.

He knew there was no going back.

As his eyes closed, I saw the last rise and fall of his chest, the last open of his mouth, the last movement of his hand.

Onto mine.

I had screamed, the nurses had to drag me away from him.

He was still.

Troye.

My Troye.

Was gone.

The nurses sat me down on the bed next to his, drew around the curtain and wrapped me in a blanket as I wailed.

One stayed, her hand on mine, which had curled into a fist and was shaking with uncontrollable fear. Or was it pain? Or anger?

This mix of emotions felt wrong.

Should I have felt anger towards him? Should I still feel angry about what he did?

He ended his own life.

No warning, no signs.

But is the anger for myself? For the fact I should have known something was wrong, I should have helped him.

This has all happened so quickly.

Just so quickly.

I lost control.

I hit her hand away, it was cold, almost as cold as his had been.

I didn't want to think about it.

_I didn't want to think about it. _


	10. Chapter 10 - Tyler - Love

"I think it is time."

Laurelle's face was drawn with lines, her eyes sunken and her mouth thin.

She had not been well in the last years: Shaun, Steele, Tyde and Sage too.

It had hurt them, of course it had, but they were stronger than me.

Everyone had been stronger than me.

"Ok." I breathed out and in, calming myself. I needed to hold the emotion in, I needed to be strong. For once.

Laurelle took a large box, painted white with 'Troye' on the top and sides, and placed it on the table in front of me.

I couldn't do it.

But I could.

I had to.

I needed to.

I couldn't.

But I could.

I lifted the lid, the smell of Troye's aftershave hit me like a wave.

The tears escaped and I sobbed, holding the hoody which lay on the top of the pile.

It was the one I had bought for him. The one he had been wearing.

I couldn't do this. But I needed to.

I slid my arms through the sleeves and wrapped myself in it. This was the only way I could ever feel his touch, have him close. He was holding

me, like I yearned to hold him.

In a frenzy to be closer to him, I ransacked the whole box, sorting and sifting through the paper and the pictures, crazed.

I found a small, battered notebook which was named 'Trxye' on the worn leather binding.

Laurelle and I held our breath as I opened it.

There were four full songs, each one filled my heart with pride and joy.. and pain.

It was like he was there singing to me, only me.

After the fourth song, there were pages after pages of scribbles and words that had been crossed out. Many of the pages were half torn, only a

slithers of words remaining.

The very last page had another song, though it was unfinished.

_'My Happy Little Pill_

_Take me awa_'

That was it.

Was it even a song?

I don't know, to this day I still do not.

_'My Happy Little Pill_

_Take me awa'._

Away? It had to be away.

Did he want to go away and leave me? And why 'happy'? Why was the pill 'happy'? Was he pleased about the idea of leaving, was he 'happy'?

Or was it loneliness? Did he want to get away, in a different form? Was it because he wanted to get away from life's problems, as if to ignore

them or put them to one side?

I don't know. I just don't know.

Do I need to know? Will I ever know? I just don't know.

**12 years later (14 years after Troye)**

"Dad? Who is that in the picture?"

"That's your Dad, Troye."

"But I already have a Dad. You're my Dad."

"I know, nugget."

"So what do you mean then? That he is my Dad?"

"He would have been your Dad. He is your Dad. He is.."

"What is his name?"

"Troye Sivan Mellet."

"So that's why I am Troye Sivan Oakley?"

"Yes."

"But why is he my Dad?"

"When you love someone, they are family. I love him, I loved him. I love you. He may not be your father of blood, and you may not know him,

but he is your father. Your Dad, in the heart."

"What happened to him?"

My heart froze, my body too.

Yes, he was 10. Yes, he knew about life and love and death and.. probably more than I wanted him to know.

But how could I tell him this.

How could I?

"He... he left."

"Why do you still love him, if he left then Dad?" He was exasperated, giving me the frequent 'why are you so weird' look.

"Not left like that. He left... he died."

"Oh... I..Dad...I... I'm sorry." His face falling, he gave me a hug, wrapping his arms around me as a tear rolled down my cheek.

"It's ok. It's ok. It's all ok." I wiped the tear away, blinking hard. "It's just hard."

"I know.. I ... sorry."

"Don't apologize, sweet. You didn't know. Do you want to talk about it with me?"

"Do you think you could do that, Dad? I don't want to if you don't."

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't feel right about it."

He nodded and sat, waiting for me to speak.

"As you know, your mother is Zoe. It is hard to explain, but... she is your mother of blood and yes, she does visit you and love you and care for

you... but she is not the Mum others have. It is complicated, I should have talked to you about this before. Zoe carried you, she did it for me. I

desperately wanted a child, I wanted to be the father I would have been with Troye. I wanted life, I wanted someone to care for as my own,

you are my own. At first I did not want to call you after him, but I did for the family of Troye. I did it for his mother, his father, his brothers and

his sister. You know I told you that Laurelle, Shaun, Steele, Sage and Tyde were just family friends? Yes they are family friends, but they are also

family. My family. Troye's family. I called you Troye because I love you as much as I love him."

"I love you Dad." He trembled as he spoke, we were both in tears.

"And I love you more, forever." I stopped, lost in thought. "Troye used to sing. He could sing with such ease, such beauty. Like you can. You get

that from Zoe, you do. You can sing and everyone and everything stops. Everything is silent, listening. You have beauty. You have a gift.

He squirmed, uncomfortable. He never believed me when I said that.

"There is something I want to give you." I blurted, running up to retrieve the notebook, the notebook that had been under my pillow for the last

twelve years.

As I fumbled under the pillow, a glass bottle caught my eye.

Troye's aftershave. It had been on the shelf for those years also, I just couldn't part with it.

I picked it up and carefully popped off the lid, the unforgettable scent overwhelming my senses.

I fell into a daydream as the memories came flooding back. The cold nights and the warm embraces. The neck kisses where I would inhale as

much of his scent as I could, hooked on it. The first time I smelt it, when we first met.

Troye was my drug, and I was addicted.

He was my... happy little pill.

I placed the bottle next to a picture of Troye by my bedside lamp.

That one was just for me. My happy little pill.

He read through the notebook, thumbing through the pages lightly.

When he reached the last one, he sung out slow "_My Happy Little Pill, take me away_... . What's next?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think he wants us to know, Dad?"

"I don't know."

"He is watching us, isn't he?"

My heart full of pride, my head full of memories and my eyes full of tears, I replied "Son, he is watching you. Every step, every joy every heart

ache. He will watch you. He loves you and I love you, and no matter how much it hurts, I will never stop loving either of you."


End file.
